cat detective

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Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait – Part 3
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Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait – Part 2
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Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait
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Sherlock Herms in … Under the Couch
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Sherlock Herms in… Behind the Bookcase
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Sherlock Herms in… Monkey Business
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Sherlock Herms in… Rejected!
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A Weekend of Skullduggery
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Sherlock Herms in Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost – The Conclusion
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Sherlock Herms in Mrs Shallowford’s Ghost – Part 5

Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait – Part 3

heaven-can-wait-promo

Previously on Heaven Can Wait-Part 2

“I want YOU,” Demon Loud Lady shrieked. “I’m here for YOU so Charley will come to your rescue, and then I will GET Charley!”

This was the a-ha! moment I’d been looking for. “Vivian, you need to get over your fixation on Charley. He’s moved on. You should too.”

“I want my house,” she roared in a dark voice that scared my whiskers straight. “He stopped me from coming back inside.” She abruptly shoved her face against her side of the bookcase, causing the upper half of my body to jerk back while my feet remain planted on the couch. “You helped him. If you don’t give me back my house, I will get you my pretty kitty, and your little sister too!”

Dori moaned behind me, but I didn’t dare react. She wanted our house. What would Mom and Dad say? And if Loud Lady didn’t have Charley—who did?

“Vivian. You’re in hell. Century 21 doesn’t sell real estate to bottom rung demons. Get over it. This house belongs to us now.”

The bookcase began to smoke. The room temperature plunged, ice cold. My whiskers sparked with electricity. My fur stood on end.

Jack murmured, “It just got creepy in here.”

I turned to see Opie by the door with Dori in his arms, her claws in his neck. Jack sat on the edge of the couch beside me, staring at a black mist seeping from the floor cracks, swirling around Candy who sat watching it as though in a trance.

“If I can’t have this house,” Loud Lady squealed, “then no one can!”

“Gotta go, Viv.” I slammed the book back into place, cutting off her outrage as the mist swirled around my sister. It didn’t drift or billow, though it moved like smoke. It looked more like a dense dark cloud shifting shape. It hovered around Candy for a few seconds, then disappeared inside her. Before our eyes Candy’s fur turned from autumn calico colors to blackest black.

“Mom’s gonna be really mad when she finds out,” I said after a moment. “Any idea what that was?”

black-mist-800

And now Part 3

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The strange mist had turned Candy’s calico markings to coal black and her lovely golden eyes were now pea soup green. Mom would have a meltdown when she saw her kitten—not that my mom doesn’t like black cats; she has four. However she did have issues with her cats being possessed by woo-woo stuff like black mists.

“I’m late for my nap.” Jack zoomed from my office with Opie hot on his tail.

I saw Dori standing by the door. “You gonna leave too?” I asked. I could see indecision in her eyes. But then she surprised me. She kicked the door shut.

“We got twouble, Hwermie. Chawley is missing. Loud Lady is stinking up our office. Da couch monster is eating my tweats. And now Candy…” Dori gestured to the mist swirling in and out of our baby sisfur who appeared to be in a trance. “I think we should call a pwofessional.”

I took a gamble. “Ghostbusters?”

Dori shook her head. “Ghost Guy!”

“Who?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Dori headed for the door.

“We can’t leave Candy.”

“She’s awright,” Dori insisted just as Candy burped a smoke curl. “We won’t be gone long.”

Downstairs Dori pawed the TV remote to the Spooky Stuff channel just as Ghost Guy’s TV show was starting.

Dori nuzzled Ghost Guy’s image on the TV screen, “Isn’t he Wonderpurr?”

More like a posturing poser, but I bit my tongue. Clearly my little sisfur thought otherwise.

dori-loves-ghost-guy

“Ghost Guy will help us get rid of Loud Lady and find Chawley.”

“Honey, we might need help, but I’m not sure he’s—”

“He’s available,” Dori inpurr-rupted. “I alweady asked.”

I was going to say authentic, but I let it slide. Wait. “You already asked? Asked what?”

“If Ghost Guy could come to our house.”

ding-dong

I whirled to see a shadow lurking through the curtained front door window. No!

Dori licked her paw and then flicked it through her whiskers. “Do I look purrfect? First impwessions are lasting impwessions.”

“Dori! You didn’t hire him, did you?”

“Hwermie! Chawley’s soul is in danger.” She scampered to the front door just as her hero kicked it open.

“This may be THE MOST HAUNTED HOUSE in America!” Ghost Guy exclaimed in an unnecessarily loud, melodramatic voice that made Dori flip backwards, ass over ears.

“Hey, Guy. Wait till the cameras get set up.” A slick director-type edged past the ghost hunter into our foyer with three child-size cameramen on his heels. One stepped on my tail. “Okay! Take two!”

Ghost Guy slipped back outside, only to kick the door open a second time. “This may be THE MOST HAUNTED HOUSE in America!”

As Ghost Guy and his TV crew invaded our home, I had to agree with Dori. First impressions are definitely lasting impressions.

Mom flew down the stairs to confront the film crew. “Who the hell are you people, and what did you do to my front door?”

Standing maybe an inch taller than Mom, Ghost Guy planted his feet apart in an aggressive stance, drawing my attention to his pointy toed dress boots with their two-inch heels. As a cameraman knelt to shoot up at him, he stripped off his leather jacket to reveal a crisp white shirt a size too small designed to make him appear like he had muscles. “I’m Ghost Guy,” he said to my mom, not removing his sunglasses. “I’m here to rid your home of its demon infestation.”

For a moment I thought Mom was gonna laugh. Then she said, “I’m calling the police.” She ran upstairs for her phone.

“Ghost Guy.” Dori tugged on his pant leg.

He patted her head. “Nice kitty.” He pulled out a pocket size tape recorder. “There is some scary but awesome dark energy lurking in the corners. EXPOSE YOURSELF!”

His shout knocked me on my tail while Dori zoomed under the couch.

“Uh, Guy?” The director waved to get his attention. “The network big shots are pretty adamant about you not saying that anymore. Their wives think it sounds suggestive.”

“Oh my God!” Everyone looked at the dark haired bearded guy in a zip-up sweatshirt. “My batteries just drained. Dude! I put them in five minutes ago. I swear!”

Ghost Guy abruptly bent over, grabbing his neck. “Gak! I’m…being…CHOKED!” He fell to his knees with one of the cameramen looming over him for a money shot.

“Cut!” The director jammed his fists into his hips. “Guy! How many times do I have to remind you? You need to establish contact with the demons before they choke you.”

Guy stopped emoting and rolled to his feet. “Who wants my autograph?”

Dori zoomed from under the couch. Peaches, Gidget and Chauncie Marie scampered in from the kitchen, giggling behind their paws. Only Candy didn’t line up as she was up in my attic being possessed by a shadow monster.

Watching the paranormal investigators and TV crew take over our house, I felt things could quickly get out of control. I went to introduce myself. “I’m Sherlock Herms, a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood.”

Ghost Guy ignored me. “Who’s next? You cutie? Which body part do you want me to sign?”

My jaw dropped as Chauncie Marie exposed her belly and Ghost Guy signed right over the fourth nipple.

A choir of screams drew our attention to the front lawn. “My fans!” Ghost Guy slung his jacket over his shoulder as he bound out the front door. The screams hurt my ears .

The bearded guy whose batteries died rolled his eyes. “This is getting old.” He grabbed the director’s arm. “I get paid regardless if we’re shooting or not, right?”

“Get out there Pete, and meet the fans while we set up,” the director told him.

Pete shot a dirty look at the crowd trampling our front lawn. “They aren’t here to meet me.” He headed for our kitchen. I followed.

“You got anything stronger than bottled water and almond milk?” he asked, his head inside our refrigerator.

“I think there’s beer in the lettuce crisper.” I watched while he drank one of Dad’s brewski’s and ate a cold leg of fried chicken. “Dori called Ghost Guy because of the problem in our attic.”

“What kind of problem?” Pete finished the leg and tossed it onto the counter where one of my fursibs could get it.

I jumped onto the counter to paw it into the sink and cover it with a dish cloth. “Well, there’s a bottom rung demon behind the bookcase, and some kind of monster with bad indigestion lurking under the couch. My friend Charley is missing; he’s a ghost. I was hoping you could find him. Oh! And my calico sisfur has been possessed by a thick mist that turned her fur black.”

Pete stared at me. “Come again?”

“There’s a demon behind the book—”

Pete flew from the kitchen, then up the stairs to my mom’s author office at the top. “Where’s the attic?” I heard him ask Mom as I arrived.

She had the police on the phone, but hung up when she saw me. “What’s going on, Herms? Who are these people?”

“Ghost hunters,” I told her. “Pete. In there.” As he closed my office door behind him, I said to Mom, “Dori thought we needed help finding Charley.”

She sighed. “I hope they find him before your dad gets home from work.”

My office door abruptly opened and Pete stepped out, his face a bit whiter behind his beard. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” He flew down the stairs, his voice reaching a new octave while calling for Ghost Guy.

SHERLOCK HERMS DIVIDER

I wonder what spooked Ghost Guy’s partner, Pete? There weren’t any cameras rolling, so I don’t think he was acting for a TV audience. You know those show-biz types.

Be sure to come back Friday for Part 4 of Heaven Can Wait.

Need to catch up with my Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries? The links to all the Season 1 Case Notes are listed on the Archive Page (see upper tab on far right). If you missed Part 1 of Heaven Can Wait, click here. For Part 2, click here.

Until next Friday…Have a Wonderpurr Week.

Purrs! Herman!!!

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Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait – Part 2

heaven-can-wait-promo

Previously on Sherlock Herms…Heaven Can Wait – Part 1.

“Nooo!” Dori howled. Tears wetted her whiskers.

“What?” I ran to her. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed to the couch. “My tweats are gone. The couch monster eated them—again!”

We stared at the darkness under my couch. Then…

burp-couch

Dori flung herself at the couch. “Yoo gimme back my tweats! I need to review them for Chewy.com.”

I went to pull Dori off the couch. No telling what kind of mood the couch monster was in. He’d been pretty passive, but…

From the corner of my eye I saw something move, and turned just as Evil Paranormal Stuff fell to the floor from the third shelf on my bookcase. Frozen with fear, I forgot Dori and her couch nemesis as I watched the bookcase shake like it was under attack.

Oh My Cod! The demon Loud Lady was trying to escape!

I felt Dori’s claws in my neck as she wrapped herself around me. Together we widdled our floofy britches. That was a mistake. Before our eyes the demon grew scarier and stronger from our reaction. I had to take control.

“Where is Charley?” I yowled. “Give him back!”

Demon Loud Lady howled from behind the bookcase, causing Dori to climb onto my back and sob.

“You give Charley back,” I snarled. “He wants to go to Heaven!”

“Heaven can wait!” Loud Lady screamed. “I have your precious Charley in Hell!”

And then she stuck her arm right out of the bookcase!

demon-loud-lady-behind-bookcase-reduced

And now…Part 2

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Sherlock Herms in… Heaven Can Wait

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heaven-can-wait-promoI sat brooding in my attic office with my back to the seething bookcase. My snake-necked lamp splashed weak light onto my huge desk, causing eerie shadows to surround me. The atmosphere fit my mood. It had been weeks since my Bakelite phone with the rotary dial last rang. Was I a washed-up has-been after only two cases?

My name is Sherlock Herms. It is my business to know what others don’t know. But since my phone isn’t ringing, clearly everyone knows everything so I’m not needed for nuffin’.

Actually I think Charley unplugged my phone until I got my focus issues under control. No sense taking more cases if I can’t see the clues right under my whiskers. Read More

Sherlock Herms in … Under the Couch

under-the-couch

Previously on Sherlock Herms…Behind the Bookcase.

“I need to show yoo something.” Dori grabbed her favorite cuddle blanket from the living room couch and wrapped it around her before crawling up the stairs to my office.

The minute I opened the door I sensed something was wrong. My Ride was huddled in the corner, whimpering like a scared puppy. When it saw me it ran over my foot with its anxiousness to be comforted. As I rubbed my foot and petted my Ride’s green mint chip dotted hood, my attention zeroed in on my mom’s bookcase in the corner. The shelves are crammed with books about authoring mysteries, books about detecting stuff, and books about ghosts. Behind it is a secret staircase. In 1945 the stairs led down to a yard with a swimmy pool that no longer existed. Seventy some years into the future, the bookcase hid the stairs to nowhere…except now bright light was flowing out from behind it.

Last week I’d been chatting with Charley when the bright light pushed the bookcase away from the stairs to flood my office. Charley had reacted with surprise and defiance. Someone beyond the light had called to him, but he refused to go. “I—I didn’t expect to be summoned so soon,” he’d told me, looking a little shook up. “I thought I had more time.”  Read More

Sherlock Herms in… Behind the Bookcase

behind-the-bookcase

Previously on Sherlock Herms… Monkey Business!

Dori asked, “Did yoo know about writing children’s books when Mom wrote Finding Mya?”

I thought about it. “No.”

“Did yoo know about family dysfunction and Christmas folklore when she wrote Kringle?”

I swallowed hard. “No!” Feeling a panic attack coming on, I grabbed my floofy tail for something to hold onto. “Does this mean I haven’t been her mews all along?”

Dori placed her paws on either side of my face. “It means all yoo have to be is you in order to inspire her stowies. That’s all a mews does.”

“Well said, my little sweetheart.” Charley sat on the sunroom couch, smiling.

I stared at them both. “But… I have inattentional blindness! And you’re wrong, Charley. It is a disease. It has 99,500 links listed on Google. It’s a full-blown epidemic. I can never be like Sherlock Holmes if I have a disease!”

Charley sighed. “Herman, only Holmes can be Holmes.”

Dori tugged on my arm. “Yoo don’t need to be another Shewlock Holmes. Yoor Shewlock Hewms. Not the same. Diffewent.”

“I’m not saying you cannot be a most excellent detective,” Charley continued, but I’d tuned him out. Dori too. Clearly the ability to pay attention to one thing at a time applies to listening as well.

With the hum of Charley’s and Dori’s voices shifted to background noise…like the dishwasher running… I turned back to the window to focus on the bird sitting on the birdbath. Then I shifted my attention to Candy’s reflection in the glass.

I saw Candy stretch her legs as she sighed in her sleep.

I saw Dori exchanging opinions with Charley as to why I should give up my dream of being like Sherlock Holmes.

Something caught my attention. Charley looked solid to me. Not ghost-like, as though he was still alive.

I also saw something in the window’s reflection that made the fur on my neck stand up! Read More

Sherlock Herms in… Monkey Business

Monkey Business

Previously on Sherlock Herms… Rejected!

“Herman,” Charley said. “You live in a world hampered by inattentional blindness. So highly distracted by everything—your ability to focus on any one thing at a time is impossible. To clarify what I mean by inattentional blindness… It’s like scrolling through Bookface and not seeing the advertisements on the side of your page. They’re there. You just had your attention focused on the latest Aaron’s Animals video…”

I smiled with sudden joy. “I wuv Aaron’s Animals videos. Didja see the one called Fast & Furryest where…”

Charley’s gaze drifted over my shoulder. As his squinty eyes widened behind his glasses, I turned to see what had distracted him.

In the corner of my office is a bookcase where my mom keeps her research library. The shelves are crammed with books about authoring mysteries, books about detecting stuff, and books about ghosts. During my last case when I met Charley (read my case notes on Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost by clicking here) I learned there was a secret staircase hidden behind the bookcase. I’d zoomed down that staircase with Dori to escape being seen by the demon known as Loud Lady. Back in 1945 it led into the garden with a swimmy pool and pool house (where Charley died) that no longer existed.

Brilliant light now seeped from behind the bookcase. With wonder I watched as it slowly creaked open to reveal the secret staircase. As it opened the brilliant light burst into my office, blinding me with its…um…brilliance.

Charley with bookcase
A sudden icy chill stabbed my shoulder, making me turn to see Charley had reached out to touch me. His attention was on the staircase. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. I, however, flicked a desperate look at my Ride, quivering in the corner. Had I left my sunglasses in the pocket? I thought about fetching them when Charley suddenly moaned, “No! Not yet. I’m not ready to go.”

What the Friskies! Read More

Sherlock Herms in… Rejected!

Cover for Rejected
I held the copy of my letter in my paws. What did I do wrong?

I’d started over eight times. Mom always says first impressions are lasting impressions. I’d wanted my letter to be purrfect. I’d hoped that if he liked what I wrote, he would want to meet me in purrrson. Maybe even solve a case with me.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

I wanted to introduce myself since we are in the same business of detecting stuff. I am Sherlock Herms of the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. I have one assistant, like you do with Watson…only my assistant is my little sisfur, Dori. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had to take your little sisfur on a caper. Anyway! We just solved our first case. It had ghosts that needed to be busted. We were paid two huge quarters. Have you ever solved a case with ghosts? Just wondering. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.

I’m a huge fan of yours. I watched one of your hissstorical doc-mew-mentaries last night on teevee to pick up tips on solving cases. Maybe someday when I get real good at solving cases myself, you and me could maybe get together… Discuss stuff. Or maybe not if you’re real busy. You probably are, so…

Maybe if you have an extra picture of yourself lying around, you could pawtograph it for me. I would hang it over my desk and look at it all the time for inspurration. But if you don’t have time to have your picture taken…or don’t want to just because… I understand.

Countless weeks had passed since I’d mailed my fan letter business correspondence to my hero. Sherlock Holmes had to be back from his case by now. He had to have gone through his stack of mail. He had to have seen my letter. Unless the mail carrier had gone postal and flung my letter into the River Thames…there was only one conclusion: I’d been rejected. Rejected by my hero. Read More

A Weekend of Skullduggery

TattleCat Chat LogoWell, it was a wonderpurr weekend at my house, the place where I live.

Actually, I didn’t spend my weekend at my house. I spent it cooped up in a hotel suite. And…it actually wasn’t very wonderpurr.

This is what happened:

My mom and her friend, Aunt Linda, went to a mystery writers conference and brought me along cuz… Cuz Dad was in charge back at the house and Mom didn’t think he could hack taking care of all of the Wonderpurr Gang, plus the raccoons, plus give me my special diet noms and health supplements.

Besides, why would my author mom leave me, her mews, at home when she’s going to a writers conference?

The thing was… This was a writers conference. Not Blogpaws. And troofully, I wasn’t supposed to be in the hotel cuz of the rule where they used to allow pets but then changed their minds. What the Friskies! How rude!

We packed up the Land Yacht on Thursday and headed out with me riding in either Mom’s lap or Aunt Linda’s. I had my commode and bed in the back, plus Dori packed me a box of refreshments to nom. It was nearing dark when we arrived at the hotel. Usually I jump into my Ride and zoom through the front door, but this time Mom informed me a little skullduggery would be involved. Since I’m now a hardboiled detective with grit in his blood, this sounded right up my alley.

After checking in at the front desk, Mom and Aunt Linda grabbed a baggage cart and brought it out to where I was manning the getaway car. My litter box was disguised as a huge black trash bag. So was my pet stairs. The rest was either in suitcases or moving boxes. After everything was placed on the cart, I was loaded into a pink pet carrier that resembled a duffel bag and set on the top, looking like an ordinary piece of luggage. This is when the excitement started.

The cart was possessed by a demon. I know it was cuz I’m not only a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood, but I’m also a purranormal investigator. I know about ghosts and demons and stuff.

Anyway, that demon jerked the cart to the right and to the left. No matter how hard Mom and Aunt Linda tried to steer it straight, the cart had other ideas. Meanwhile, I’m inside the pink duffel bag getting ready to urp my last meal.

Finally, we got into the elevator and rode up to our floor. Thank Cat the other guests were busy fooling around in their rooms or drinking in the bar. Nobody saw nuffin!

Once inside the room, I was released from my duffel bag and my litter box and refreshment stand was set up. I got a nice bed on the couch. And that’s where my excitement ended.

After Aunt Linda put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, Mom turned on the teevee to the Summer Olympics for me to watch while they were at the workshops. With nothing else to do besides pee and poop and eat…I slept. B-O-R-R-R-I-N-G. Sorry, but the only sport I found remotely inpurresting was when the girls waved ribbons on a stick. Otherwise, it was a total snoozefest.

Herman in hotel suite

I wasn’t even allowed to patrol the halls, like I usually do at Blogpaws. And when it came time to eat, I had to deal with leftovers. I tried to find the phone to order room service, but my mom is a sneaky pete and hid it on me. So I had to pretend like I was grateful for the cold greasy bacon and the French dip without the dip she brought me.

I guess more than being disgusted with the teevee programming, no room service, and not getting to zoom the halls…I was pretty ticked off about not going to the conference. These were my hoomons! Mystery writers. Hardboiled crime detective writers. I wanted to rub elbows with them. I wanted to sidled up to the bar with the big names and toss back a few shots of purrbon on ice, looking all brooding and mysterious.

Prefer claws

But no. I was treated like an ordinary cat. And we all know there is nothing ordinary about me.

After three very loooong days, I was sprung from my luxury prison. The idea was to grab a luggage cart, load it up like when we arrived, and run out to the getaway car. However, when my mom and aunt discovered that the hotel bellhops wouldn’t let the luggage carts out of their sight cuz…tips… Plan B was put into action.

Plan B went like this:

It was a dark and stormy morning. The sky was pitch black and the rain came down sideways in sheets. Great time to leave the hotel, eh? My hoomons packed everything up, including disguising my commode and pet stairs in their huge black trash bag costumes and sweeping the rug of litter crumbs. They even bagged their trash since maid service had not been welcomed since we arrived. When the room looked pretty spiffy, Mom loaded me into my pink duffel bag, and Aunt Linda grabbed my pet stairs, and we headed out for the Land Yacht. But…when we got to the elevator, it was pretty crowded. We squeezed in so as to not look suspicious, although I overheard Aunt Linda tell Mom that one of the men in the back kept eyeing the pink duffel.

Just between you and me, I’d pawed a zipper open so I could see out with one eye…

Upon reaching the first floor, we hustled out the side door into the storm. The parking lot puddles splashed around my hoomon’s ankles while I snuggled high and dry in the duffel. I was dumped like a sack full of dirty laundry in the back. Mom jumped into the driver’s seat while Aunt Linda ran back to get the bellhop. She took him up to the room to load up, while we pulled around to the entrance. After our stuff was loaded into the back, we pulled away, then parked around the corner so I could be released from my pink prison and my commode could be released from its trash bag disguise.

We rode home without much ado. Life is like that. A lot of prep work and run around…then nuffin.

Anyway, I didn’t get much out of the conference, but my mom got to meet her author idol, Janet Brockovich. Um… Erin Evanovich? Whatever! I didn’t get to meet her, so I’m not impressed.

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Do you ever travel with your hoomons? Have you ever been sneaked into a hotel? Details! I want details! Thank you so much for stopping by. Please remember to come back on Friday. Friday is Sherlock Herms Day!

Purrs! Herman!!!

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Sherlock Herms in Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost – The Conclusion

Previously on Sherlock Herms – The Case of Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost Mrs Shallowford's Ghost

After watching Dori make her singing debut at The Desert Galaxy nightclub, Herman wakes up to realize he’s had a bad dream. Not that Dori’s singing was terrible, but that he was inside the almost famous detective Max Shallowford’s body, and the mobster Sammy ‘The Squid’ Calamari was expecting him to shoot another mobster.

Upon waking, Herman finds himself back in his attic office seventy years in the past. And seated across from him is Charley Feeble, a ghost. Charley tells him he is the real Max Shallowford, but has a pathological form of shyness. Because he feared meeting his clients in person, he hired an out of work actor from Ecum Secum, Nova Scotia to pretend to be Max Shallowford.

The actor was really good. Too good. He fooled everyone, including Charley, by taking over and getting involved with the mob. That landed him in trouble and he ended up disappearing, along with the mobster’s money and his girlfriend. The Squid was more upset about the money than the girlfriend.

The actor also married a showgirl by the name of Vivian who was responsible for scaring Charley to death. He tells Herman, “I called you, Sherlock Herms, to retrieve the missing jewelry so Vivian will stop screaming. She still frightens me, even though I’m dead. However, I now realize that if I can get her to step outside of my house, I may have a way to prevent her from reentering. That’s why I needed you, Herman. I need you to help me get rid of Vivian Shallowford.”

And now…The Conclusion.

SHERLOCK HERMS DIVIDER

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Sherlock Herms in Mrs Shallowford’s Ghost – Part 5

Previously on Sherlock Herms – The Case of Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost Mrs Shallowford's Ghost

After Sherlock Herms enjoys a play break with his sisfur-slash-assistant, Detective Dori, he falls asleep and dreams he’s at the Desert Galaxy casino, seated at a table with Loud Lady and her Not Friend, Elouise. They are joined by the notorious gangster, Sammy ‘The Squid’ Calamari, who was rumored to be responsible for the mysterious disappearance of the almost famous hardboiled detective Maxwell Shallowford.

Just as Herman realizes he’s not a cat in his dream, but rather inside Max Shallowford’s body, The Squid gives him a briefcase filled with thousands of dollars. He tells Herman-slash-Max that he is to ‘plug’ another gangster by the name of Lenny the Loser.

Herman is quietly freaking in his navy pinstripe suit pants and his two tone shoes when he notices a man at the next table, glowing. Yup. Glowing like the sun is shining brightly down on top of his balding head. He tells Herman not to be afraid, and introduces himself. He’s Charles Feeble. Dori’s Charley! He also tells Herman, in order for him to understand what happened to Max Shallowford, he is experiencing a memory from the detective’s life. Herman wants to know who he is. Herman has many questions, but Charley tells him…

“That’s not important right now. When you awake, I will explain. But for now, let’s enjoy the show. Shall we?” He abruptly stood up to applaud, along with Sammy Calamari and the rest of the people at the nightclub.

“And now,” a voice said over a loud speaker, “please welcome to the Desert Galaxy… Miss Adora Purr singing her new hit song, Purrple Underpants!”

Herman swings his gaze to the bandstand where he sees his little sisfur step on stage.

What the Friskies!

And now…Part 5.

SHERLOCK HERMS DIVIDER Read More

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